


curse, bless me now with your fierce tears i pray

by SerenePanic



Series: the elder brother's life all laced in with the other's [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Keith and Shiro are Adoptive Siblings, broganes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 20:55:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10316786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenePanic/pseuds/SerenePanic
Summary: Keith's been distant ever since Shiro woke up in a dusty desert shack.Shiro doesn't know why, but he knows he can't just let his brother drift away without answers.





	

**Author's Note:**

> title from Dylan Thomas' "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night"

In a cold sweat, you wake. It’s not uncommon, these days. Blinking until the clock numbers clear, you accept you won’t fall back asleep tonight. Usually, you stay in your room, mindlessly working out, until it’s an acceptable time for breakfast, but tonight, you fall back on your bed and stare at the ceiling, thinking about something that’s been bothering you for a while, but you tried to shove to the back of your mind and ignore.

(You are an imperfect person, and you know this. You like it when things are easy, when people can be easily fit into simple boxes— _smart, but too young for this job. Funny, but doesn’t take it seriously enough. Brother, but trying to leave—_ but it’s not fair to them, and you know that. Still, you hate that you’re expected to be the sole adult, in control at all moments—you’re _twenty-five years old_. You still don’t really understand what those symbols on clothes for washing machines mean.)

Still, this has gone on long enough, and clearly this is an issue you really do need to address.

Keith hasn’t spoken to you yet, not really, and now you’ve become so concerned you can’t ignore this anymore.

(You were concerned before, but that was more of a constant state of concern for him because he’s your brother and reckless. This is different.)

It’s been almost six months, since you crashed back on Earth, since you were held down in a Garrison lab and knocked out, since you woke up on a ratty couch in a dingy, crumbling shed and looked around to see three teenagers (children) sleeping in a pig-pile on the floor and one teenager (brother) quietly trying to organize food for the five of you, since you all found a robotic lion and were cat-napped to space.

Six months, and you still don’t know why Keith was in that desert. At first, you had thought that the four of them were friends in the Garrison, and had come up with that wild theory together, but as you watch Keith try to interact with the others, it’s clear that you are watching them meet each other and learn to know each other.

(So why was he in the desert? Whose shack was that? Why won’t Keith meet your eyes unless it’s an emergency?)

You stop your mindless workout repetitions, drop to the floor, and roll onto your back to stare at the ceiling. You feel young, for the first time in over a year.

(Too young to be worrying about your kid brother who doesn’t seem much like a kid anymore.)

You pick up your head for a moment, then let it fall back onto the ground as you sigh.

Keith won’t come to you anymore. You’ve realized it, finally. You’d been hoping for weeks that eventually he’d get over his apparent discomfort with you, that one night you would hear him knocking hesitantly on your door like he used to before— _before_. You’d been hoping that maybe Kerberos and everything that came after hadn’t actually ruined your relationship like it appeared to have done.

But it’s been six months, and Keith is still skirting around the edges, avoiding being alone with you or anyone else. He’ll show up for team training and emergencies, and he can generally be found with Pidge and Hunk and even on occasion Lance, and he’s respectful and serious with Allura and Coran, but he won’t go near you.

There had been moments, before you disappeared (again), where it looked like he might finally open up, but in the end none of them came to fruition. And of course, once the Galra reveal happened, he drew even further back, afraid of how you would react. There should never have been any doubt, of course—you’d run after him, prepared to fight your way out at the risk of losing an alliance with Marmora, because their trial had been hurting him and no matter where he was from, no matter what you learned, he’d still be your younger brother, and you would always chase after him.

(You miss your brother. You thought that coming home would mean you would get him back. Instead, it seems more like your dreams were right—he knew what had happened, and now it had ruined the two of you.)

And because you’re a masochist who can’t let things lie, who can’t just accept this without torturing yourself by knowing _exactly_ which part of this whole mess was the breaking point—

You need to talk to Keith.

(Yes, okay, he’s your brother and this should be easy—but talking to people about important things, especially when they’re people who are important to you, is _hard_ and just because you haven’t let the others know how much of an actual disaster you are, yet, doesn’t mean you’re somehow miraculously better than you were back at the Garrison with Matt when you downed two pots of coffee and an eight pack of energy drinks in less than twenty four hours and almost had to go to the hospital because you thought you could see the entirety of the universe all at once.)

You huff out a sigh, and square your shoulders. You know what you’re doing. You’re trying to distract yourself by thinking about how this shouldn’t have to be your responsibility, and shy away from facing the consequences of your actions. It’s one of your worst habits, and you know it.

And then you remember what time it is.

(Damn it. You finally get yourself together enough to at least try—and he’s almost certainly asleep.)

Oh well.

You know full well you won’t be sleeping any more tonight. If you go to the training room now, you can probably work out any frustration at yourself that might have otherwise slipped into your intended conversation with Keith. In the end, this is all for the best.

You finally force yourself off the floor and out the door.

(Distantly, you miss your Garrison days, when you could sleep for sixteen uninterrupted hours if you were left to it, and leaving your bed each morning was the hardest struggle you had to face.)

As you softly creep down the hallways, trying not to wake any of the others (though you know they probably wouldn’t wake up anyway—they’re pretty heavy sleepers when they can be, and you’re pretty light on your feet), you can’t stop yourself from trying to remember exactly when everything went wrong.

Was it on the Castle, when you had to act as leader instead of brother (and you know you’re not doing so well at that—but Keith’s been your brother, your _responsibility_ since you were fifteen years old and you can’t just forget that) that Keith started to draw away? Was it when you didn’t ask him why he was alone in the desert when you first came back to Earth? Was it sometime during the rescue when you were unconscious that he saw you and drew back in horror? Or was it before then, when you left him behind as you flew off to the stars?

(You can’t tell, and that hurts too. Somewhere along the lines, you prioritized other things above Keith, and even though that was _never_ your intention, it still ended up edging him out, somehow, and now you’re both in space and there’s only five others around you and he’s still choosing to isolate himself instead of trying to seek you out and you don’t know how to fix this.)

Something deep inside you, something young and raw and freshly remembered, screams and just wants everything to go back to normal and desperately wants Keith to be the way you remember him, to be _safe_ , wants your mother to come and give you a hug and tell you it’s okay, you don’t have to be afraid anymore.

You shove it back down, mercilessly. You can’t afford to wallow.

You slip inside the training room, taking care to shut the door softly behind you—

Keith’s already here.

(The shoved-aside part of you that you’ve been ignoring for almost two years, now, since you first left Earth suddenly flares into existence, bright and impossible to ignore.)

_It’s the middle of the night even you aren’t usually awake why isn’t he sleeping—_

You need to force yourself to move. You can see, in your shock, how dark the bags under his eyes really are, how he’s slightly trembling, how pale he’s gotten—this isn’t _right_ , your brain is screaming. This is _wrong he’s hurting who let him h u r t—_

You call out to end the training simulation, and Keith, startled, stumbles and whirls around to face you. It’s clear he didn’t expect you to be here.

(There’s raw fear on his face, in the process of being shut down and smoothed over but you saw it, for just a moment, and now that you know what to look for you see how his jaw is held slightly too tight, how he’s just a little too tense, like he expects you to start railing on him. You want to flinch away.)

He opens his mouth, then closes it—silently trying to say something (anything), you can tell, but it’s clear he’s so startled by you being here that he can’t find any words.

You cross the room to him in just a handful of strides.

(If only it was so easy to cross the bridge that had grown between you.)

You reach out to steady him, because he looks pale and like he just might collapse if he stands up for too long—he tenses, almost imperceptibly, but he _does_ and you freeze, your hand still partially outstretched, before you slowly draw it back and stand up straighter.

There’s an unfamiliar expression on Keith’s face—regret and stubbornness and knowledge (of what? What does he know that makes him pull away?)—and it scares you. You don’t know what it means, but it terrifies you, simply by existing.

You never wanted _any_ of this.

You haven’t said anything yet, and you only realize this because Keith’s eyebrows are starting to furrow, and he’s looking at you like you’ve done something that confused him.

Your thumb runs over your knuckles.

(You never have trouble talking, but here, now, you don’t know how you could begin to even talk anything out with Keith, because you don’t know if you can trust yourself to speak calmly, because you’re so mad at yourself—you don’t know where you went wrong, but you know it was your fault.)

You breathe, and force yourself to speak.

“Keith, what are you doing awake?”

You don’t think that was really the most important question you could have started with, but you’re trapped in a swirl of thoughts like a flushing toilet and you can’t seem to pull yourself together, not really.

Keith frowns, stubbornly—familiarly. “I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to train. You didn’t have to trouble yourself.”

You can feel yourself frowning, and you don’t stop it.

“It’s no trouble, really.”

You really are very concerned about how pale he is, and how dark those bags are. When was the last time he slept properly?

He’s still looking at you strangely.

“Shiro, are you alright? You don’t look so good.”

Huh. You hadn’t realized he’d notice that. Somehow, you thought that much in the same way you’d missed the signs that Keith wasn’t doing so well, he wouldn’t have noticed how horrified you are at this entire situation.

Well. If it gets this conversation started…

You blink a few times, first. Then you open your mouth, and try to talk—“I…’m fine…” and you let yourself sway just the slightest bit and—

There it is.

Keith’s at your side in an instant, supporting you and leading you away to a bench on the side of the room. Huh. You’d never notices these before. Maybe you really aren’t in the best shape, right now. Must be the result of all these sleepless nights.

Keith sits next to you—hesitantly, but he does, and that’s more than he’s done in the past few weeks, and you’re secretly relieved. Apparently, if he’s legitimately concerned about you, all his hesitation about being within a ten-foot radius of you disappears. That’s…good, you think?

(You think that maybe you should feel a little guiltier about clearly manipulating him like this, but you’ve been waiting for him to come to you on your own terms, and clearly that hasn’t worked.)

You sigh, deeply, and turn to face him, your brows furrowed.

“When was it that we went wrong?”

Your voice is soft, but completely serious. You don’t want to scare him off, but you _need_ these answers from him, so you can help him.

He draws back, as though he was burned. His face twitches.

“I…I don’t…What do you mean, Shiro?”

His voice is dry and low, so close to breaking. He thinks he knows where this conversation is headed, and he’s terrified. You just shake your head and reach your hand out to his shoulder, grounding him here, with you.

“When did you stop thinking you could talk to me?”

Your words cut through the air, like an arrow through a soft hay-stuffed bag, and you see them land in Keith as he stiffens and his shoulder tenses under your hand.

He breathes out, slowly, with great deliberation.

“What do you mean by that?” Keith’s voice, very pointedly, does not quiver.

It’s too late to take any of it back now—the only way left is to continue.

You start talking, and the words don’t stop.

“I just mean—remember when you were little, and you fell out of the tree? And later, after the hospital and when we were back home, you admitted you hadn’t been afraid because you knew I was there. I know that with everything that’s happened—yes, after Zarkon, but before that, with Kerberos—there’s been plenty of reasons for you to draw away, and I just can’t figure out when it was. I know I haven’t been doing the best job of being your _brother_ instead of your leader, especially in the first few days after you found me, but I’d still hoped that we could move past it, you know? I don’t blame you for being unable to—I did, after all, leave you behind to go to Kerberos and then didn’t come back, but…Keith, I came back, and you were living in the _desert_ in a _shack_ by yourself! And it’s been _six months_ and I still can’t figure out why—what happened at the Garrison? If you couldn’t be at the Garrison anymore, why weren’t you with Mom and Dad? Did you even ever try to talk through your grief when you thought I was dead? Why didn’t anyone help you, like they should have?”

By the end, you’re practically shouting. Not at Keith—he hasn’t done anything wrong here, not really, but you _are_ furious with everyone back on Earth who left this child alone, who didn’t help him when you couldn’t. At some point you must have let go of his shoulder, because you’re looking over your shoulder at him, hands clenched into fists—every muscle in your body is practically screaming with how tense you are.

Keith blinks—once, twice, thrice—and he crumples in on himself.

You slump against the wall, all your rage gone, as you watch your brother, trembling, force himself to sit up and look you in the eyes, one wrong word away from tears.

His voice is unsurprisingly raspy.

“I…none of that was your fault, Shiro. I mean, I did pull away, but not because you left—I just through you needed some time to take care of yourself, first, and then in the end it didn’t seem like it mattered? I got kicked out of the Garrison because I kept getting into fights, and then I couldn’t bear to face your parents, not when you were gone and I was being such a _disappointment_ so I left and I didn’t bring it up because I was ashamed and then there was so much going on that it didn’t matter, really, because you were here, again, and I just…I wanted to make sure you put yourself first, for _once_. I’m fine, really!”

And just like that, you’re blinking back tears.

You don’t know how to categorize everything you’re feeling—sad and proud and hurt and disappointed in everyone around Keith and something that aches, a sharp pang in your heart—but you know you can’t just leave it like this.

“You…you should have come to me. You’re clearly _not fine_ , Keith—you have bags darker than the Black Lion, you haven’t been sleeping, and you look like one solid hit could put you in the hospital! I’ve been _worried_ , and you never came to me to even try to talk! I was afraid you were _dying_ and just didn’t want to let anyone know!”

Keith scoffs, his jaw working furiously, trying to keep from quivering.

“I’m fine, okay? I’ve been working through some stuff, sure, but it wasn’t _important_ and I didn’t want you to be distracted because I couldn’t get my head on straight!”

You shoot to your feet and pull him up with you, clutching his shoulders, trying to impart what you feel to him through just your shaking hands.

 “Keith, it _is_ important—you’re my _brother_. I _never_ wanted you to feel like you shouldn’t come to me if you were having troubles!”

He pulls away from you, stepping back until he hits the wall. He turns his face to the side, glaring up from the corner of his eyes. Finally, he lets out the thought that’s clearly been bothering him the most, the darkest secret he’d never let anyone guess he held.

“You were finally _back_ , Shiro—you were _alive_ and I was _relieved_ that you had been captured by the Galra and _tortured for a year_ because _I couldn’t handle it if you were dead_. What kind of a person does that _make_ me?”

He’s speaking softly, but with such vehemence that you know can only be directed at himself, that it feels like he’s shouting with all his voice.

You don’t even let yourself stop to think about what you’re doing. You just _react_ , freezing and looking at Keith with wounded eyes.

“Keith, it makes you _human_. It makes you _my little brother_. I’d _never blame you_ for that!”

Keith freezes. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t that. You’re not surprised—your brother has never been good at expecting people to care about him, or at expecting to be forgiven.

Before he can try to speak again, you continue on.

“I’ve thought the same thing, too. It would have been easier, sure, but I’m _glad_ I’m alive! I’m _glad_ I get to see you again, that even though we’re fighting a hopeless war, that there’s a high chance none of us will make it out of this alive, I’m so, horribly glad you’re here with me, instead of safe back on Earth with Mom and Dad, because it means you’re _here_ with _me_ and I don’t have to do this alone, or with strangers! If you’re a ‘bad’ person for being glad I’m alive, then I’m an even worse one for being glad you’re here!”

Keith is just staring at you. It’s horribly clear he never expected forgiveness or understanding, and you watch and he lowers his head and starts to shake as he finally, finally cries.

(You know your brother in his bones. You know who he is, was, and who he very well may be—you know he never cried for you, when he thought you were dead.)

At last, for the first time since this whole journey began, you know what you have to do.

You reach out and pull Keith into a proper hug, and the two of you sink to the floor.

There’s still a ways you have to go, the two of you. You need to talk things out, properly. You need to figure out how to move on from here. But for now, you can just sit and hold each other and know that this isn’t the end, that you can come back from this.

It’s not the worst thing in the world, to cry, to be forgiven.


End file.
